


Show Me the Light

by IndelibleSpock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chanukah, Established Relationship, Hanukkah, Holidays, Human!Spock, M/M, pandemic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndelibleSpock/pseuds/IndelibleSpock
Summary: It's nearing the end of the pandemic. Jim and Spock finally see each other for the first time.Rated Explicit for themes.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	Show Me the Light

Jim grabbed another round of hard cider from the bar and brought it over to the table. He set the lemon basil in front of Bones and grabbed the cranberry for himself. When he sat down the two ripped off their masks and enjoyed the bounty of alcohol before them.

It was snowing outside, the fluffy stuff piling up at a rate that couldn’t be shoveled away. They were thankful for the metal awning over them and the fires that kept the seating area warm.

The waning days of the brutal pandemic couldn’t come at a better time.

Normally, Jim confided in Bones. Jim would divulge all his problems to the doctor. They were friends, good ones at that, but Bones was always Jim’s protector.

At least until the pandemic.

Jim flipped the switch. He was there for every call. Every night Bones was still at work trying to cope with the horror, he’d message Jim or call him. Whatever he could handle better. Some nights he couldn’t manage to speak, others all he wanted was to hear Jim’s voice tell him he was doing all he could.

He hated triage. He loathed it. Whenever Bones had to make a difficult decision he’d send Jim the patients’ stats with the question, “who lives tonight, Jim? Who do you save?” And Jim would always respond with his answer. It would always match Bones’ decision. Justified by a non-doctor. It was at least something.

So on this snowy night, when Bones broke into a genuine smile, Jim admittedly teared up in response. It had been so long since he saw his friend truly enjoy the simple things life had to offer.

“Getting better,” Jim asked. “For you personally? I can read the news. I want to know about you.”

Bones looked at the golden substance in front of him. Lemon basil cider. He gave up liquor five months into the pandemic. He knew it would destroy him. Cider tasted better anyways.

“Better. Seeing people together again. I love seeing people together again. Hugging. Taking their fucking selfies in the middle of the paths at the park getting in my way. All wearing masks, but they can hug each other. At work I saw a patient for something entirely unrelated to the disease. I felt I could finally work again to help them out and regain their quality of life. None of that ‘I don’t fucking know’ bullshit.

“And in a few more months we’re gonna loosen mask regulations. At least outside, if all continues to go well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jim brightened. The thought of going outside the house without needing to bring a mask delighted him. A thought that years ago he never considered again. “Which reminds me, I wanna tell you something.”

“Okay, go for it.”

He clutched his glass, wondering if this was the right time to tell Bones. There was a lot he didn’t tell his friend. There was too much on Bones’ mind to consider filling with trivial matters. While the doctor watched people dying, Jim was still living his life. A drastically different life, but he still had his own job. He still had to worry about the other people in his social circle, his family. What was left of it anyways.

“I met someone. This was like two years ago, but shit was still pretty bad so I didn’t want to bother you with it. He had to travel into town for business and that was when I was still on the advisory board for the city so I had meetings,” Jim shook his head realizing he was divulging too much needless information. “Anyway, we hit it off and we’ve been long distancing it. When they lifted the travel restrictions he started visiting on his own time. It’s gotten really serious.”

Bones’ expression softened. The hardened man reserved smiles or anything more than a grimace for his closest companions. It was taking a lot of work, but Bones was slowly feeling emotions again. This time he was truly happy for his friend.

“Jim, that’s amazing. And to think that before all of this happened you were moaning about being alone for good.”

Years. That was years ago. Jim would storm into their usual bar and up to his usual location at the corner table next to the window complaining about a date gone wrong. He was always complaining that it wasn’t his fault he was dedicated to his work.

“It’s weird. Because of everything,” Jim threw his arms up referring to merely existing.

“All this weirdness and seclusion and—“ Jim and Bones slipped their masks back on. They were still limited to how long they could have them off in a bar setting. “He has no social media. He has no photos pre-pandemic. I have never seen his full face. Since we’re nowhere near being in the same region we’ve always been masking up. Whenever he FaceTimes me he’s always in a mask or he’s hidden cause it’s late at night and he’s in bed falling asleep.”

Jim blushed. Thank g-d the mask obscured it. Unfortunately Bones was too smart to leave it go unnoticed.

“Jim, you’re in love with him?”

“All sorts of love with him.”

“Tell me about him.”

Jim groaned. “I’ve never wanted to see someone’s face so much as I do his. He has beautiful deep set eyes. So dark. Pitch black hair that he keeps so perfectly in place. Bones the man only wears perfectly pressed suits and button down shirts. I swear to g-d when he goes casual he still puts creases in his jeans. He’s always perfect. He’ll speak in fucking written paragraphs. He’s too careful with me, Bones. He won’t eat or drink in front of me. He won’t touch me. But we click. We get along so well together.”

Jim took a long drink of his cider.

“He asked me to visit him this time.”

“And? Are you gonna go?”

He shrugged. “Can I?”

At face value it was an absurd question to ask. Jim was a state representative. He knew his city’s charter backwards and forwards. He knew the pandemic laws from the city, county, and state by heart and could recite them and their code numbers down to the decimal without issue. But on a deeper level, the regulations didn’t matter. Bones’ opinion (medical, professional, and personal) was the only one Jim cared about.

“I think you should visit him.”

“You’ll be okay?”

Jim didn’t see any reason to leave the city, purely for the fact that he felt he was responsible for Bones’ sanity. Any time he had the opportunity to travel, Jim refused. His friend needed him most of all and he wanted to make sure he could easily drop anything to help Bones.

“I only have one issue,” Bones folded his arms. “Why didn’t you say anything? A hint? A mention? You kept this secret for two years?”

Jim frowned. Tapping on his glass to figure out how to come clean. He liked honesty, and Bones valued it too, but this time around Jim wanted to lie. He wanted to tell him he forgot in the midst of it all.

“Everyone around us all dying, or getting severely sick. It’s hard to find happiness. And it’s hard to overcome bitterness. Bones, you’ve had enough on your mind, I wasn’t going to pester you with trivial nonsense.”

“My best friend’s happiness is not trivial.” He leaned on the table. “You’re my family. I want you to be happy.”

“Yeah but—“

“Jim, I know what you’re going through. We can’t give into the survivor’s guilt. That only makes it worse. We have to celebrate what we do have. I’m choosing to celebrate the fact that you’re finding happiness with someone.”

Bones gave Jim a rare smile. “I’ll be fine. You spent years taking care of me, I think I can go a few days without you.”

“Okay and then what if when I visit him something happens and we realize we actually don’t get along?”

“You just said you were dating for two years.”

Jim rested his head on the table. “I’m a fucking nervous wreck.”

* * *

It was a 5 hour trip on a barely crowded plane. People were still hesitant to sit in a syphoned off tube flying through the air. For those that still had to fly, it was a peaceful excursion. Less people meant less imbeciles to interact with. All that were left were business and government officials, they knew the routine.

Mask, face shield, and extra pair of clothes that was meant for wearing on the plane and nowhere else. Copious amounts of disinfectant. Checkpoints, almost as intense as it was days after 9/11. Everyone had to time stamp their location and duration, their activities. All for contact tracing.

Jim stepped out of the airport after what seemed like a lengthier than normal post-flight quarantine process. He was relieved to see the sun shining before it set at a wickedly depressing 3:12 pm.

The vibration in his pocket disrupted Jim’s inspection of his unfamiliar surroundings. He waltzed off to a corner where he’d be out of people’s way to answer his phone.

“Hey.”

“I’ll arrive at your gate in seven minutes. Sorry for the delay, I had a conference that ran a little long this morning.”

“Honestly it worked out. TSA fuckers kept disputing the fact I work in government. I just got out of quarantine a minute ago.”

“I hope nothing else troubled you on your flight.”

“The only thing troubling me was having to wait to see you in person again.”

“Only a few more minutes.”

The black Mercedes was parked out in the loading zone. Jim memorized the license plate as not to cause any more trouble with the TSA by holding up traffic. Before Jim could take another step, arms wrapped around him.

“Holy shit, Spock. It’s so good to see you again.” Jim pressed his hands onto his back. It felt remarkable being held. Remarkable that the first real physical interaction with his significant other of 2 years was an all enveloping embrace.

“Likewise,” Spock pulled away, inspecting Jim’s face. At least the parts that weren’t covered. “Four months without face-to-face interaction is too long. Far too long.”

His black hair hung over his eyebrows, almost about time to get it trimmed again. His eyes were bright with joy at seeing Jim, yet they were still cold and morose. Jim felt he was being held in a trance every time he looked into those eyes. They were dark pools that seemed to show the entire universe.

“Do you always coordinate your mask with your outfits,” Jim wiped a few strands of Spock’s hair to the side.

“Only when I’m working,” he looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, they’re gonna want this car back soon.”

“Oh, please tell me you told your bosses before taking a government car for a spin.”

Spock smirked. He grabbed Jim’s suitcases and put them into the trunk. All the while there were a few people who passed by, acknowledging Spock’s presence with simple hello’s or head nods.

“You really do have a following,” Jim looked at the last person who said hello to Spock.

“Yeah, a burden I usually forget that exists,” he gave Jim a tight-lipped smile, obviously gone unseen.

They got into the car for the 20 minute trip into the city. It would be another 20 minutes to get to Spock’s residence. Jim continually expressed his gratitude for Spock’s hospitality.

Spock sighed when he heard the familiar ringtone. A call that couldn’t go unanswered.

“Mr. Grayson, I hope this isn’t a bad time,” the voice declared, not really even caring if it was a bad time or not.

“It’s not a bad time, but not great either. I’m driving so keep it short.”

“Ah, very well then. I just need you to confirm a few documents. I won’t pester you anymore.”

“It’s quite alright. It goes with the job.”

“Oh and have a very Happy Chanukah. Will you be the one conducting the ceremony this year?”

Jim sunk down in his seat. He knew he was forgetting something incredibly important. Every time he wracked his brain to figure out what it was, nothing came to mind. Spock invited him over during Chanukah, and Jim was sure he made a note of it somewhere. Maybe he thought the calendar on his phone would remind him simply just by doing its job labelling the holiday.

“I’ll be lighting, yes. As far as public engagements go this holiday season I’ll be fulfilling my mother’s former roles.” Spock drummed the steering wheel, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “Sheldon, I will come in later to verify those documents. I hate to cut the conversation short, but I gotta go.”

Before Sheldon could continue further, Spock ended the call. He sighed in relief.

“I’m a fucking moron,” Jim muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m a moron. I forgot it was Chanukah.”

“I’d have forgotten it as well if I didn’t have public engagements for it.”

“You invited me over during Chanukah. That’s a big fucking thing to forget.”

“Jim, it’s fine.”

“Is it though?” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You very well could have stayed home. You could have told me that the risks outweighed the benefits. Regardless, you still travelled 5 hours to see me.”

For a brief second Spock took his eyes off the road. He thought it was crucial to get his appreciation across. “I’m not going to get mad because something that’s not normally on your radar wasn’t remembered. Actually, I’m sort of glad you forgot.”

“You’re glad?”

“You tend to over dramaticize.”

“Oh please.” Jim frowned.

“My birthday?”

Jim paid for an elaborately decorated cake to be delivered to Spock’s office. Buttercream succulents. Spock had a thing for succulents.

“Passover?”

Cooking streams where Jim tried and somewhat succeeded at cultivating a seder menu.

“Fourth of July. Of which you nearly blew up your phone and your own hands.”

Jim laughed at that one. He was in his backyard, a little bit too drunk to be messing around with sparklers of all things.

“I’m sure if you remembered Chanukah, you’d be up to your shenanigans again. Which I could only assume would be worse because you’re here in person. But I digress.”

“Okay, so you’re a very reserved person, which I respect,” Jim fumbled with his phone. “But you gotta at least let me do one outlandish thing for you.”

“Did you get better at making those macaroons,” Spock mused. “They looked good when you were making them last.”

“Dude they were incredible and I wish you were there to try them.”

“Then it’s settled. After the ceremony tonight, we’ll come back home and make some.”

* * *

This was the closest Jim ever got to Spock’s family. He rarely spoke about about them. It didn’t surprise Jim in the slightest to find out that Spock’s father, Sarek, was the state governor. Wherever Spock went he was followed with people nodding their heads. He was always in the spotlight, not solely due to his father but because of his own merits as well.

Spock was a scientist. An epidemiologist. When the pandemic began he fought every step to fight misinformation. He opened himself up to criticism, which also left him vulnerable to petty attacks. His efforts to open up about the entire process of identifying a pandemic to containing one earned Spock high praise and a top advisory job working with all the western coastal states.

Jim looked up from his spot in the front row. Spock was used to the attention, but he remembered a few months ago when he confided in Jim.

_“I don’t want to be praised. I don’t want people cheering me on. I just want to do my job. If it weren’t for my family, I wouldn’t be up here. I wouldn’t be feigning a smile for the cameras while lighting a tree or commemorating some other public works project. I could care less about the politics that surrounds me.”_

He wouldn’t have known how much Spock abhorred it all.

“I’ve attended this gathering for years now.” Spock looked into the small socially distanced crowd. “There’s many people who should be here right now. My mother should be up here instead. I know she’d tell you all to persevere. So we stand here and we continue. The light is on the horizon. It’s near, but we mustn’t forget the trials and that brought us here. It may be dark now, but the light will return.”

It may have been for show. A simple way for the community to gather at the steps of the state capitol every year, but the showmanship stopped when Spock took the shamash and climbed the ladder up the large menorah. He said the blessings and while lighting the first candle he mouthed another more personal blessing silently.

“For my mother: the light. I praise you, giver of my life.”

Before the pandemic, there would be music and games. Children would be playing giant jenga. There would be arts and crafts tables for all ages. Hot cocoa was seen in every hand. The steps of the capitol building would be filled with Jews and non-believers, merry making and wishing each other well.

This year the festivities were more solemn. Knowing how close they were to eradicating the virus made everyone on edge. Only those that were proven with high immunities still ventured out, and even then there wasn’t the sight of carelessness that was seen in the beginning.

Spock silently linked his arm with Jim’s, leading him away from the courtyard.

“You don’t want to stay?”

Spock shook his head. “My father is far better at making mindless chatter with people he doesn’t know. I’ve stood on that stage every year since my father became a state senator, and then ultimately governor. Nearly half my life. I’m over it.”

“Spock,” his father’s voice called from behind.

The two stopped their walk down the steps. Spock audibly sighed while Jim could only squeeze his hand.

“Spock, you’re leaving so soon?”

“I have engagements.” His curt tone sliced through the cold air.

Jim furrowed his brow. He wasn’t sure if he should say something or stay quiet. Spock put him in a difficult position.

“You will be back tomorrow, yes?”

“It is a commitment I made. I will be back at sundown for the blessings. Despite what you believe I do actually take this seriously.”

Jim slowly unlinked his arm with Spock’s and backed away. “I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just uh be over by the bon fire.” He was only a few steps away before Spock tried to stop him. “It seems like you two need to hash some things out. It’s really no problem. Come find me when you’re done okay?”

Father and son stared at Jim nearly identically.

“You didn’t even care to introduce me,” he asked.

“I was planning on it.”

“But not tonight?”

“I figured you’d be busy,” Spock shoved his hands in his pockets. He kept his eyes lowered as not to fully reveal anything to his father.

“It is the first night of Chanukah, and you assumed I’d be busy not to finally meet your significant other of two years? You really think that little of me?”

“I don’t think little of you. I figured you’d have different priorities tonight.”

The brisk wind funneled between them, rumbling through their ears. Spock and Sarek rarely talked anymore outside of the public sphere. Sarek would message Spock asking how he was, and Spock would do the same, but the two hadn’t spent any real quality time in 8 months.

The void left in their lives was too great.

Sarek pulled his son into a tight hug. The first in 5 years.

“Please don’t ever think you’re not a top priority of mine.”

* * *

The two finally returned home after a trip to the grocery store. Jim needed ingredients for macaroons and Spock decided he needed to buy food that wasn’t just sandwich ingredients. They spent so long apart and most of it online, Spock reveled in Jim’s grocery shopping. He was animated as he bounced up and down aisles finding what he needed. Simple moments such as these reminded Spock just how much younger Jim was. The youthfulness kept Spock’s own morose feelings about the world at bay.

Everything was laid out atop the kitchen island. They washed their hands and wiped down their phones. Spock preheated the oven.

“If you want to take your mask off I’m okay with that,” he said while grabbing a mixing bowl.

“Same,” Jim said. “I mean, it’s your house. I don’t want you to think you have to keep wearing the fucking thing 24/7.”

Spock placed the mixing bowl in front of Jim, leaving him alone in the enormous kitchen. He returned with a red box.

“Biohazard box. About the only way to remind myself I need to consistently wash my masks before I run out.”

“I have a table set up near my door,” Jim laughed. He ripped his mask off and put it in the box. “Nothing, and I mean nothing but masks touch that surface.”

Jim looked into Spock’s eyes knowing just how important this moment was for them. For the first time since knowing each other they were about to stand in the same room maskless.

“May I,” Jim raised his hands. Spock consented, waiting patiently.

He took great care to keep his hands touching just the straps. Out from the ears and away from the face, Jim dropped the black mask with navy blue trim into the box.

His nose, his lips, his chin. He returned Jim’s wide smile. “Okay, I’m assuming you want to break up with me now because I am not as beautiful as you thought.”

“Oh, on the contrary. You need to break up with me because you’re way out of my league.”

They stared at each other inspecting every line, every blemish, every little bit of their faces. This wasn’t just about making cookies. They’d catch each other staring and return the stare with a blush. Spock admired the determination Jim had while beating the egg whites. Jim adored the way Spock read out the recipe. The laughter they shared gave them a glimpse of hope. For a few minutes, the universe was perfectly balanced: tranquil and at peace.

“Jim, your 700 dollar webcam doesn’t do you justice.” Spock handed over a plate full of freshly baked macaroons.

“Guess I shoulda gone with the more expensive one,” he grinned. “Which is a shame cause I was just gonna use my laptop for work meetings and then I met you. I literally bought that camera so you could see me better.”

“Shame.” He took a bite of the cookie. The toasted coconut really did heighten the flavor. Spock never really understood why people were so insistent about how white their macaroons should turn out. “Jim, where did you find this recipe? These are amazing.”

“When I was doing those streams for passover I found a simple recipe. There was literally nothing special about it. So I started to mess around with it.” Jim took a bite of his own cookie. “Probably shoulda used a bit more cinnamon.”

Spock leaned onto the table.

“I cannot stop staring at you.”

“You’re the one who denied me two years. I even tried to look you up on social. Nothing. Your dad is the governor, has been for years, and there’s nothing.”

“He valued my privacy.” He leaned closer to Jim. “May I make it up to you?”

“Yeah, I guess, but ho-“

Spock gently placed his lips on Jim’s. As soft as Spock had imagined. It was chaste, but careful. He didn’t know how far Jim was willing to go. After all, it was their first kiss.

“I’m sorry. Those days when we first met in person were difficult weren’t they?”

Jim nodded. Those early days where he was an advisor to the mayor, and he spent countless hours briefing local officials and visitors. It was a visit from Spock and his entourage that made all the difference in Jim’s life.

“You were about the only thing that kept me going.”

After a long informational seminar, Spock asked Jim to give him a tour around the city that could exemplify what they were doing to keep citizens engaged while socially distancing themselves. At first the tour was strictly professional, but Jim had a habit of asking too many pointless questions. Spock relented to Jim’s company, as he was fed up with his limited social sphere.

Those gentle eyes that stared back were reminders how resilient people were. Jim’s spirit nearly broke. It wasn’t an exaggeration.

“How is your mother by the way,” Spock asked.

“Getting better. Better with coping. Every day there’s something new to be thankful for.”

Jim got up, wanting to touch more than just hands. He embraced Spock from behind, kissing his temple and splaying his hands across his chest. “This. I am very thankful for.”

The rest of the night they explored that physical touch. They’d gone so long without hand shakes, without hugs or high fives. The two had to break past the barrier of touch itself, reminding themselves what they liked and didn’t. It was enough to trace the lines on the palms of their hands or stroke each other’s eyebrows. A kiss here and there, but that wasn’t tonight’s focus.

Jim nearly cried when he realized what they were doing. The simple feeling was monumental between them. He forgot just how important touch was, to feel another person’s hands hold his own.

“I-I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” Jim choked.

“Neither did I,” he pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead. “And if you’ll allow me to suggest…”

“Suggest?”

“There is a guest room. However if you’re comfortable, you’re more than welcome to sleep with me tonight.”

“How can I turn down such a lucrative offer?”

* * *

Spock hadn’t slept so well in a long time. When he woke precisely at 7 am, he thought he was still dreaming. He’d wake up with Jim in his arms and he’d carefully climb out of bed for work. When Spock would wake up he’d merely pretend he’d left Jim at home, only to come back with no one there.

This beautiful morning where the sun was trying its best to shine through the deep fog, he got to hold on to Jim for dear life. It was ridiculous to think Jim would disappear if he moved, but the thought danced around his barely conscious brain. He marveled at the soft golden skin intertwined with his own shockingly pale complexion. Jim was just so warm and soft, while he was so cold and stiff.

Spock glanced at the clock on the wall. Unfortunate. Regardless of Chanukah, he had to make a visit to the office. He had to plan a brunch spot for himself and Jim and undoubtedly his father who would want to join. There was still a life to live, but at least he could give Jim a glimpse into what it entailed.

He placed a soft kiss on Jim’s shoulder before he carefully climbed out of bed. Before leaving the room he looked back at the sight. Jim’s golden skin intwining with the black sheets. A small smile splayed on his face, a thigh poking out from under the covers.

This was how the past two years should have been. A young man he adored lying in his bed from time to time. A young man patiently waiting for him to come out of the shower on a cold winter’s morning. Spock craved this, not the lonely nights falling asleep to the blue glow of a FaceTime call.

The coffee tasted better that morning. Spock wasn’t sure if it was because he finally was awake enough to set the four minute timer for his French Press or if it was because he made it especially to share. He scrambled some eggs and baked some bacon. He thanked himself for actually buying groceries last night.

“Okay, tomorrow I’m making you breakfast.”

“And what if I say, no?”

“Then you’re a terrible host.” Jim greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “You know, I like it better when you have your shirt off.”

“I’d say the same, but considering …. how are you not freezing?”

Jim shrugged. He sat down at the kitchen island, gazing at the man before him. Pristine blue button down, his sleeves perfectly rolled up. The only thing that wasn’t perfect about him at the moment was his hair, still ruffled.

“It’s actually warm in here. Do you not pay attention to the thermostat or something?”

“I think it’s set to auto. I dunno I’m not entirely a handy man.”

“We’ve been through this before. I don’t even think you own a plain t-shirt.”

Spock opened his mouth about to say something, but the timer from the oven went off. He dished up servings for both of them.

“You know what, you’re right. I don’t actually own a plain t-shirt. Maybe I’ll change that.”

* * *

Every day was filled with a mixture of essential work duties and free time. Spock would stay up to date on stats and other important figures. He even gave Jim a tour and an intense breakdown of what his team was working on. Plans (successful and unsuccessful), research, trials, and the sort were all broken down in the plainest of terms. Jim was a compulsive note taker, but even the full pad of information wasn’t enough to bring back for his own constituents.

After scheduled meetings for them both, they’d grab lunch and sit out in the park in the chilly air. The mountains surrounded them, trapping the fog and hiding the sun. It wasn’t ideal weather.

And then each night, Spock would climb the ladder to say the blessings and light the menorah. Each night there was a small gathering, yet nowhere near as large as the first night. A decade ago the local Jews decided to use oil and wick for the menorah on the capitol steps. It had to be maintained, lit properly, at night and rekindled in the morning.

The duty fell on Spock this year to care for the menorah. A monumental task. He had a whole community standing behind him. It had to be perfect.

On the seventh night, Jim once again walked up the capitol steps with Spock so the latter could light the menorah. Before Spock could climb the ladder up to the platform where the menorah sat, Jim grabbed his hand.

“I don’t know if it’s okay, but can I join you?”

Spock nodded. He pulled Jim closer to him, blessed to know someone who took genuine interest in his belief. He felt his throat tighten, to hold back a rare public display of tears.

They climbed the ladder up to the platform.

“This is your first year taking part?”

Jim nodded. He rubbed his hands together, self conscious. There was another small gathering. Was Jim welcome up here?

“The candle that I take every night and light the oil with is called the ‘Shamash.’ Since this menorah uses oil and not electricity, I relight it and all the required arms every night and every morning.”

Spock opened a box filled with beeswax candles. He handed it to Jim.

“I’ll prepare the oil and make sure it’s enough to fulfill the mitzvah.”

“It has to be lit for at least 30 minutes, right?” Jim watched as Spock measured out the oil.

“Without getting into the full requirements, yes.” He climbed a set of stairs the allowed him to light the rather large menorah. “Was that what you were reading on your phone so late last night?”

“Familiarizing myself again. I know I’ve read all this stuff before, but…”

“It’s not your life.” Spock poured the oil into each arm of the menorah. “It does make me incredibly blessed knowing you’re willing to learn. Now, what I want you to do is come up here and we’re going to light the shamash.”

Spock motioned for Jim to climb the stairs to join him. He warily joined, still nervous. He held out the candle, and Spock struck a match to light it. He wrapped his hand around Jim’s, guiding the shamash to the correct places.

“We will recite the blessings.”

Jim was enamored with the solemn tone Spock took on while reciting the Hebrew verses. While he hated the public sphere he was forced into, Spock’s recitation was deeply personal. It was for his mother, his family, for Jim, and for all those that were suffering. Chanukah deepened his belief how important public service was.

“What happens now,” Jim asked, while his hand was guided to place the shamash back in its middle position.

“Would you like to attempt your own lighting?”

“My what now?”

“I’ve neglected to light the candles at home. I didn’t think you’d have any real interest in another lighting after the public ones…”

“You mean you’re not even in compliance?”

They descended the stairs and took their usual route away from the capitol steps. Spock was walking faster than normal, feeling ashamed about what he just admitted.

“Spock, come on. Say something to me.”

“I don’t have much to say other than I entirely misread you.”

“Jews get Christmas shoved down their throats every year.” Jim grabbed Spock’s hand, stopping him from walking any further. “Sweetheart, don’t forgo something important to you because of that. I’d be more than happy to light the menorah.”

He pressed his forehead against Spock’s. “You’ll have to walk me through it, cause I am not about to fuck it up for you.”

* * *

Spock walked Jim through the ceremony once more. This time Jim only took cues from Spock and he read the blessings from a piece of paper. Jim repeated his question from earlier.

“Relish in the lights. Relish in our company. Reflecting on how important we are to each other.”

“That means making food, right?” Jim beamed.

Spock laughed, pulling Jim into the kitchen. “Yes that means making food. Since you made those macaroons, I’m going to make you latkes.”

Jim nearly drooled on the table. “Potatoes fried in rendered fat? Oh my G-d, yes.”

They savored the potato pancakes. Spock hoped he served his mother’s recipe well despite Jim never knowing just how amazing Amanda’s latkes were. They were the talk of the town every time she dished them out.

“You’d love her cooking, Jim. We weren’t kosher. I don’t think we could have been, but when she pulled out her box of recipes we all knew we were in for a treat. Those cooking streams you do for me, they remind me of sitting in the kitchen all day with her baking and cooking meals not only for us, but for those who needed a comforting meal.”

“Food is definitely a love language,” Jim teared up. “When I was a kid, my family fell on some pretty hard times. I think it was a full school year when the only meal I had was at school. So now when I see food, I know it means more than just fuel. It’s life. It’s sitting here with you enjoying your company. It’s about making the most out of the very little you have.”

Spock caressed Jim, pulling him into an amorous hug. He tenderly placed his lips on the golden skin, thankful for every little touch they had. His lips parted into a deeper kiss, more loving but still peppered with the urge to get closer. He pulled away wiping the tears from Jim’s eyes.

“That’s Chanukah, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I purposely left what happened with both their families shrouded in ambiguity. 
> 
> Honestly I just wanted to write something different. Chanukah is a beautiful holiday and it deserves more Spirk.


End file.
